


Cold Feet

by CyanideBreathmint



Series: The Fox and the Wolf [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Pre-Canon, Slight spoilers, Snoke Ships It, don't feel sorry for Hux he's an evil space Nazi, fluffy bantha slippers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 13:37:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5499002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CyanideBreathmint/pseuds/CyanideBreathmint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kylo Ren is ordered to cultivate General Hux's acquaintance. </p><p>So he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Feet

**Author's Note:**

> So uh. Hi, from Inception Fandom. *shifty eyes* 
> 
> Hux and Ren totally read as bitter exes to me. This is an attempt at explaining how they might have gone there.

Hux worked through his lifeday as he had for the past fourteen years of his life. Birth anniversaries were significant dates, certainly, but his work came first, especially now as the project on Starkiller Base neared its completion date.

The base itself was a constant work in progress; the first things built were the hangars for the construction droids and the landing pads for supply ships. Storage rooms for supplies followed, as did the barracks for conscripts, civilian contractors and Stormtroopers. With the barracks came dining halls and cafeterias, meeting-rooms, showers, sanitary facilities, kitchens, officer quarters. A maze of interrogation rooms and hallways followed the power conduit bundles leading out and away from the dull black hexagon of the command center, ringed about by starship hangars and studded with ground emplacements.

All this construction and work required oversight. While it was not a general’s personal responsibility to inspect every conduit and sewer pipe, Hux liked to make sure he debriefed the officers in charge of subprojects down to the block level. They, in turn, knew that he preferred it strongly that they knew each of the sub-officers answering to them. That was where accountability came from, where mistakes were corrected, where negligence was addressed through appropriate penalties. He was also careful to leave matters of discipline to subordinates such as Captain Phasma or to entities outside the chain of command, like the Knights of Ren. Competent leadership demanded it.

Good leaders led by inspiration and example, but an intelligent leader also anticipated discontent in the ranks. It was far safer to set up an outlet for hatred and resentment when it occurred, a lightning rod of sorts.

Hux did not like incompetence or laziness. He did not tolerate it in his subordinates, nor did he tolerate it in himself. He was, after all, his father’s son, and his name was something he lived up to, not something he had ever coasted on. This too was part of his father’s legacy. He would sometimes think of his childhood; the timed fitness runs and the regular chores, the push-ups when he failed, and his father’s rare, warm approval when he did well. Sloppiness and disorder – that was what the decadent so-called Republic wallowed in, and he would not abide it. 

There had been pleasant things about this day-shift despite the heavy burden of his work; a communiqué from his parents in his personal mail, well-wishing directly from the Supreme Leader’s office, and his staff on the command floor presented him with his favorite spiced cake. They had pooled their dessert ration cards to order it for the occasion, and he had given them permission to cut it up and eat it at their workstations, because infrequent indulgences like this were good for morale, and also because he was truly a little touched by the gesture. Hux was conscious of his rank, of the newness of his promotion and his relative youth compared to some of the veterans among the Stormtroopers and the First Order fleet.

In previous years there had been modest, private celebrations in one of the officer lounges with the other majors or brigadiers, with thimbles of bitter, fragrant wislix tea and a shared lifeday grain-cake. This year was different; there were not currently any other generals on staff at Starkiller Base, and Hux took his tea alone when his shift had ended. He stirred his cup pensively with a slender wislix twig, infusing the hot water further with the fragrance of the plant and the subtle bitterness of bark-tannin. He was halfway through his second thimble of tea when the door to the lounge hissed open. He looked up and saw tallness swathed in a cloak and robe of coarse black cloth; edges of finer fabric beneath the outer robe’s raw hem, and supple gloves of tanned dewback hide over long-fingered hands. A scratched metal mask gleamed dully beneath the robe’s hood. Lord Kylo Ren, the Supreme Leader’s apprentice, First among the Knights of Ren. Like Hux, he answered only to Snoke.

Ren came up to Hux’s table and waited silently as he put his half-full teacup down and rose. “Has our Supreme Leader need of me?” he asked, half-expecting a crisis.

“Always, but not now,” Ren said. “May I join you?”

“Please do,” Hux said as he sat back down in his chair. “Will you have tea?” He wondered why Ren had come here, and if the date had any significance. Their previous meetings had been professional and brief and all of them had taken place during audiences with Supreme Leader Snoke.

“Yes.” Kylo Ren sat down across from Hux as he filled another teacup and slipped a fresh wislix twig into the hot water. Ren watched the tea steep for a few moments, and then reached up with gloved hands and disengaged the seals on his mask. The metal thudded softly on the chair next to him as he laid it down on the seat. Hux looked up then and studied Ren briefly, noting his long narrow face and dark-dark eyes, strong bluntness in nose and brows. Dark, unruly hair waved and curled away from his temples, incongruous against the cold severity of his mask.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping their tea and refilling the cups as they emptied. The fragrance of wislix tea changed with subsequent brewings, from floral bitterness in the first cups to a subtle, salty warmth in the third to fifth. The sixth and final cup was wholly insipid except for a penetrating dry sweetness blooming on the palate after the tea was swallowed, and the both of them had finished their sixth cups of tea when Kylo Ren spoke again.

“I have heard that today is the anniversary of your birth, General,” he said.

Hux raised an eyebrow. “To me this is just another day in service to the First Order.” This statement wasn’t entirely true, but he had gotten used to celebrating his lifedays on duty.          

“Perhaps,” Ren murmured in his rich voice as he reached into his robes. There was a soft, rustling as he pulled out a paper-wrapped package and laid it on the table in front of Hux. “A present is customary.”

Hux’s mind whirled as he took the package in his hands and looked for the tape holding it shut. It was soft and dense, slightly bulky through the paper. He could not imagine any set of circumstances which led to what he was doing now – opening a lifeday gift delivered to him by any of the Knights of Ren. The tape squeaked softly and stuck to his fingers as he lifted it from the flap holding the paper wrapping shut, and then he stopped, blinked and sucked in a short, audible breath.

Nestled in the slightly wrinkled paper was a pair of soft, plush slippers, the sort one wore in undress before going to sleep. They were a soft, furry brown, and each toe was sewn to resemble the bulky horned head of a somewhat cuddly-looking stuffed bantha. Beady little eyes stared blankly back at Hux through a thick fringe of hair as he turned the slippers over in his hands. Hux was sure that he had never worn anything looking as ridiculous-looking as these bantha slippers in his entire life. Perhaps he had as a child? He wondered if his mother still had the old holos, and then looked up to find Kylo Ren watching him with those unreadable eyes.

“Why?” he asked, the word insufficient to encompass all the questions he had – why him, why this day, why _this_ specific present. Ren raised an eyebrow as though he were tasting something and a brief ghost-flicker ran like a touch on the surface of Hux’s mind before Ren stood up and picked his mask back up.

“Because, General, I was told that I should cultivate your acquaintance.” The mask clicked softly and hissed as Kylo Ren put it back on. “And because Starkiller Base can be a cold place,” he said, his marvelous voice distorted faintly from the filters in the mask.

Hux read a certain sense of amusement in Kylo Ren’s body language, in the looser set of his shoulders as he pushed his chair back in and turned around to leave the lounge. _What a strange encounter,_ he thought, as he watched Snoke’s apprentice leave, before he stood up himself and waved a service droid over to the table.

Hux took the bantha slippers back to his quarters after he left the lounge. He left them at the bottom of his closet where he left his boots, right under his spare uniform coats, before he stepped into the shower cubicle. He would turn in early tonight. Today had been a long shift.

 

\---  

 

Hux met Kylo Ren several times in the following weeks, but duty afforded them no time for conversation, not until the completion of the project he had been working on. It had taken six weeks past their meeting in the lounge for the construction crews to complete the thermal oscillator required to turn this base and its ancillary components in nearby ground sectors into the First Order’s top-secret planet-killing superweapon.

The celebrations were by necessity subdued; the existence of the superweapon on Starkiller Base itself was classified top secret. That there were over 3 billion individuals cleared to live and work on Starkiller Base did not affect the secrecy of the project – only those who needed to know about the thermal oscillator were invited to celebrate its completion. Hux had ordered one of the flight hangars cleared to provide space for the party and the ranks mingled, officers and Stormtroopers alike, over cups of hot lum-spiked punch. Catering had provided trays of finger sandwiches and crisp wafers, bowls of savory sauces and dips, skewered morsels of fungi and cured bantha belly, but most of the staff attending took personal advantage of the spiked punch and the opportunity to drink in excess of their liquor ration for once.

Hux spotted Kylo Ren standing on one of the maintenance walkways in the hangar, a pillar of absolute silence and stillness above the friendly noise and chaotic movement of the crowd. He could not see much of Ren from his distance, picking up only the glint of his mask in the shadows of his cowl, but he could sense that gaze, a wholly observant taking-in. He was being studied. He turned back to the junior officers he had been drinking with, put his cup down, and excused himself.

Kylo Ren remained motionless and silent as Hux mounted the metal steps leading up to the walkway, his boots clanking quietly on the steel grids.

“I thank you for your kind invitation to this party, General Hux,” Ren said without turning as Hux approached him on the walkway.

“You’re welcome. I haven’t properly thanked you for the lifeday present yet,” Hux said. From here he could survey the partiers – under-officers, civilian contractors, conscripted laborers, Stormtroopers, all in merry gaiety below.

“I hope you’ve been making use of it,” Ren said. “I’ve read the reports from Medical on the frequency of frost injuries in recent months.”

Hux did not doubt that Kylo Ren had access to those reports. The Knights of Ren were rumored to have security clearances just below those of the Supreme Leader himself, equivalent or superior to his own clearance level. “If you’ve read my notes on the reports,” he said, “you already know that I’ve recommended remedial cold-climate training for incoming detachments of Stormtroopers. But I appreciate the slippers. They do keep my toes warm.” That was absolute truth. Those slippers made the cold floor in his quarters much more bearable. He had stopped thinking of them as a frivolous luxury at this point.

Ren remained still, the vision slit of his mask still turned on the crowd. Hux did not know or understand the Force, but he understood what he was seeing. He recognized in that instant the slow, careful deliberation of a great predator picking out weaknesses in a herd, and understood also that Ren was permitting Hux to understand and participate in this time with him.

A dozen heartbeats went by before Kylo Ren spoke again. “You’re wondering why I’m not indulging,” he said. “Be assured that I need no-one’s permission to carouse if I so wish. I just prefer not to unmask myself presently.”

“To preserve the intimidation value of the Knights of Ren,” Hux supplied. The faceless masks had been important tools in the First Order’s propaganda, and the Empire before it – why else were the Stormtrooper ranks helmeted constantly? The mask suppressed individuality, reinforced conformity, and presented an inhuman guise to opponents, an instrument of cohesion and terror all at once.

“Just so,” Ren said. Try as he might, Hux found it a little difficult to imagine any of the Knights carousing. Rumor had described them as ascetics, masochists, madmen. But he had seen Kylo Ren unmasked, and he thought of that lupine, narrow face flushed faintly, that generous mouth quirked in a faint smile, and found the thought appealing.

“I can’t imagine why your mask doesn’t have an emergency induction port,” Hux said, daring just a little. He did not fear Kylo Ren, no matter how high he stood in Snoke’s favor, but the familiarity was a tiny, risky departure from protocol. “Then you might actually have a drink before the bowls empty.” A small knot of Stormtroopers below– sanitation detail, Hux thought – were scooping the last few centimeters of drink in the punchbowl into their cups.

The mask hissed faintly. Amusement? Anger? Static? “I also prefer to indulge in private, General Hux, and I prefer Corellian brandy to the well-brand lum Catering is serving out there,” Ren said. Amusement, then.

 “Of course.” Hux personally also preferred liquor that did not taste like bubbly, second-hand hangar floor degreaser, but one did not always have a choice with the economy constantly on a war footing. He thought then of the bottle of wine his father had saved for his graduation from the Academy, a breath of flowers and berries lingering still in his memory. Motes of dust on pale sunlight gleaming off crystal wineglasses and the bite of tartness on his tongue.

Hux’s brief reverie evaporated when Ren spoke again. “You might also like to know that I am currently in possession of a fifteen-year old bottle of Coronet Amber and a private place in which to drink it.” His voice was smooth, even, toneless, leaving Hux unsure as to whether it was a statement or an invitation.

Hux took a deep breath, decided to seize it for the latter. “May I join you?” he asked. Greatly daring now, because this had gone from familiarity to something that was more. Regulations about fraternization in the ranks were strict and Hux had never violated them. Even the very appearance of impropriety was something he personally avoided.

Except, of course, that the Knights of Ren had never been, and would never be part of his chain of command. There is, again, a faint ghost touch, this time at the collar of his jacket instead of on the surface of his thoughts. “I was hoping that you would,” Kylo Ren said and Hux left a message with his aide as they left the hangar together. _Attending a private meeting with Lord Ren. Ensure that I am not disturbed._

 

\---

 

They did not go to one of the officer lounges like Hux expected. Instead, Kylo Ren led him down a hallway that he knew of, but had not walked down, himself. It was a section of the base where the Knights of Ren were quartered when they were stationed on Starkiller Base. The rooms were serviced almost entirely by droids except when the rooms had been damaged, in which case Command simply dispatched a crew of maintenance workers. There was a specific line in the maintenance budget for such repairs. Lightsaber training was, Hux imagined, hard on training facilities.

Ren’s quarters were severe. Austere, even. His anteroom contained a work desk, a hard chair, shelving for books, papers, reports. A communication console. “Perhaps one of the officer lounges might have been a better idea, General,” he said.

Hux shook his head. “This reminds me of Academy,” he said, a rare, faint smile blooming about his face. It did remind him of Academy, of his narrow bunk and footlocker, of the classrooms and their hard chairs and the cadet rankings, the smell of wood polish and wax when he was on cleanup rota. It was a good memory of discipline against the temptation to backslide, a solid Imperial education. He remained standing as Ren removed his mask and put it down on the desk, reached deep into one of the drawers to bring out a cloth-wrapped glass bottle – the promised Corellian brandy. The glass gleamed warmly in the sterile light, the brandy within a deep, rich brown from the long aging in wooden casks.

There was only one cup in Kylo Ren’s quarters, a battered metal tumbler beside a tall water bottle on the workdesk, so they passed the brandy between them instead. They wiped the neck of the bottle in between sips as they sat on a quilted mattress on the floor of Ren’s bedchamber. That and a tiny bronze brazier were the only furnishings in the bedchamber itself, beside the closets recessed into the walls. A faint resinous fragrance rose from chips of incense smoldering in the brazier. The incense complemented the flush and body-heat of the brandy while a stinging warmth like molten gold lingered in the space behind his heart, its flavors peppery, smoky, almost astringent on the tongue.

They talked a little awkwardly at first, about work, because that was all they knew to say to each other at first. That conversation dwindled to silence, and then it was just the sting of the Corellian brandy and their fingers brushing as they passed the bottle to each other, and then not even that – just the half-empty bottle on the floor, and the sound of each other’s breathing as Hux tried to remember where his legs were so he could get up, excuse himself and leave. He wobbled a little as he stood up. The brandy had gone completely to his head, and his legs felt rubbery as he started to cross the floor, and then he was half-leaning against the doorframe with Kylo Ren’s gloved hands holding him up as he had started to fall.

“I want you to know I don’t usually make a habit of – ” Hux tried to articulate what he wanted to say – _I never slept my way up –_ but ran out of words. “I don’t abuse my position,” he managed gracelessly while he rested his weight against Kylo Ren, who now leaned against the other side of the doorway. His robes smelled bitter, smoky, singed and rough against Hux’s cheek.

“I know,” Ren said, his voice and hands too steady for him to have been entirely sober, “I’ve read your dossier.” Hux could not imagine how Ren could stand there in those layered robes and not feel stifled. He was sweltering under his own jacket, hot from the brandy, from sudden anticipation as he felt Kylo Ren’s heartbeat booming against his own chest.

“So you know everything about me,” Hux whispered. He ran an arm around Ren’s narrow waist, pulled him closer, and was rewarded with a faint shiver, a momentary shudder as he savored the light sandpaper scratch of Ren’s stubble against his forehead.

 “Top grades at the academy. Tenth percentile during your last fitness test. Rated ‘excellent’ in small arms gunnery. Yes,” Ren gasped as he pushed Hux away, one hand reaching for the fastenings of his uniform jacket. “I know everything and nothing about you, General,” he whispered before Hux leaned in closer and covered Ren’s mouth with his own. He tasted of brandy and sweet spit, his teeth sharp against Hux’s lips and tongue, his own kisses oddly tentative and curious against Hux’s own hunger and need.

Hux pulled away then, paused to study Kylo Ren, his half-closed eyes, that spit-slick mouth. His own lips stung faintly, but he did not care. “Was this how you intended to cultivate my acquaintance, Lord Ren?” he asked. The words came out in one long breath, like a sigh.

There is a brief silence as one of Ren’s gloved hands slid under Hux’s uniform jacket to press against his back, fingers brushing briefly against his holstered blaster before creeping slowly downward, and then the rarest thing, almost a miracle.

“No,” Kylo Ren said, his smile, soft, uncertain. It wavered, but it was most definitely a smile, and he kept smiling when Hux pulled him off the doorframe and hauled him to bed.

If one had been familiar enough with General Hux to ask him what he might have expected a Knight of Ren to have been like in the bedchamber, he would probably have been offended by the question. One would have been swiftly written up for that cheek and insubordination and put on punitive duty shifts.

But Kylo Ren was truly not what General Hux expected – not in the deepest, most intimate parts of himself, the thoughts he shared with no one, not even his infrequent partners. He expected Ren to be commanding, domineering, violent, even, and would have been pleased with either or all of those conditions. Ren was instead cautious, clumsy and a little bit hesitant, as though this was his first time. His vulnerable passivity took Hux’s breath away and quickened his pulse, made him want to be rough as he fumbled with Ren’s belt and his many layers of robes. Ren’s pale skin gleamed above the collar of his inner robes, a tantalizing triangle of flesh, and Hux felt his pulse throb hard under his fingers as he ran his thumbs up Ren’s sharp jawline, tangled his fingers in that extraordinary cloud of curling, unruly hair.

Ren did not pull himself free. Instead he reached up to stroke Hux’s chest, gloved fingers curling around under his open uniform shirt to spread over his flank, and the sensation of supple gloveleather kindled Hux’s senses, brought him back to his very first time, back in Academy, Aleena and the creamy scent of her, the floral notes of her perfume and her breath warm against his temple while she straddled his lap, held on to his shoulders with gloved hands. The memory gave him pause, and he stopped undressing Ren to look down at him again, at his whipcord leanness, the breath and life quivering in him.

“Have you ever – ” Hux asked, but Ren shook his head.

“No,” he breathed, and then gasped as Hux traced a circle around his right nipple, bent his head and planted a trail of hot, wet kisses down his sternum, that faint hollow below his ribcage, the valley of the linea alba. Hux’s mouth lingered at the top of his hipbone, just above his belt and the low waistline of his trousers.

“I hope not to disappoint you,” Hux said, meant it because he could still feel the faint alcohol buzz at the edges of his mind as he fumbled first with Ren’s belt buckle, and then his trouser fly. It would not do to screw this up, his ego notwithstanding. Hux was just not the kind of person who left anything poorly done.

Kylo Ren sucked in another long, low gasp when Hux tugged his trousers off his skinny hips and left a spit-wet stripe up the sensitive underside of his cock, teasing him gently with the softness of his tongue and the light touch of his lips. This close, Ren smelled musky, spicy with clean sweat, hints of strong soap. Ren gasped again and then groaned softly when Hux took hold of him, stroked the shaft of his cock in slow, deliberate movements, but he was silent as he reached down and took Hux’s hand, guided him and showed him how he liked to be touched, how he liked to touch himself.

 They continued like this in growing tension, their breathing heavy and urgent, before Hux batted Ren’s fingers off his own and took hold of his hips. He stopped for a moment just to look at Ren’s face, at how frustrated he looked, and then he grinned, his teeth glinting before he licked his lips and took the head of Ren’s cock in his mouth. Ren let out a long, anguished moan as he arched off the mattress, his gloved hands reaching for Hux’s neck and shoulders. Those fingers caught in Hux’s hair, tugging painfully against his scalp as Ren started to buck up against his movements instinctively.

Ren’s grip was strong, and Hux fought his eager, wiry strength as he pulled back a little, not wanting to choke and gag on the deeper thrusts, but it didn’t take long to bring him off, and Hux swallowed, swallowed again as Ren’s spunk filled his mouth and ran down his chin. There had been only one loud gasp as Ren had come, his body trembling hard enough to make his teeth chatter as he had arched again off the mattress as though possessed or seizing from a long fever. Then that merciless grip had loosened, and Hux kissed his way back up Ren’s body, felt the tension bleeding out of him as his muscles started to unclench.

Hux’s own erection was starting to hurt, impossible to ignore, and he thought of just reaching down and tossing off as he half-straddled Ren, of leaving a pearlescent trail of spunk gleaming against that pale chest, that sharp chin. He saw, in his mind’s eye, droplets of come hanging off Ren’s hair and eyelashes, and the thought robbed him of speech, of breath even, as he reached down to unzip his own trousers. Ren stopped him before he could. He levered himself half-upright on one elbow, and then sat up fully to seize Hux’s wrists, drew him closer.

“Show me,” Ren whispered, and his tone of voice made Hux grin again as he closed his eyes and lay down on the mattress next to him. “Show me how you like it,” Ren whispered again as he reached over to unzip Hux’s trousers.

“Slowly,” Hux said, as Ren sprang him free. Ren was still wearing his gloves, and his fingers gripped Hux’s hips hard enough to bruise as he leaned over. Hux felt Ren’s breath, warm and then cool against his skin, and then his mind ceased to work consciously as Ren took the head of his cock carefully into his mouth.

Ren’s mouth was hot and slick, his teeth sharp, and Hux knotted his hands into the mattress as he tried not to thrust too hard. But there was that soft velvety tongue, maddeningly slow on the sensitive underside of his cock, and the dull, clean ache of Ren’s grip bruising his hips, and Hux gasped and shivered and tried to focus on the ache, tried to make this last. When Hux let go of the mattress beneath him, he reached out for Ren’s head and let his fingers tangle in that unruly hair again, tugging gently – so gently – as he guided Ren’s ministrations.

It wasn’t until Ren stopped and took a deep breath, grinned wickedly, and then took all of Hux’s cock into his mouth that he came, the head of his cock clicking up against Ren’s tonsils as he thrust himself up and up and upwards into that exquisite mouth, spending so hard that his vision dazzled and went as he did, his fingers locked in a tight fist around Ren’s soft, dark hair.

 

\---

 

Kylo Ren stood before a hologram of the Supreme Leader, his Master, Snoke. Several days had passed since the party, and it was time to report on his progress.

“Master,” Ren said, “I have cultivated the General’s acquaintance, as you have ordered.” His face was hidden behind his mask today, but Snoke would know that he was fighting a blush. Snoke always knew.

“And more,” Snoke mused. Was that the faintest hint of a smirk on his master’s ruined face?

Ren felt his face heat further, saw that the visor of his mask had started to fog ever so slightly from his own body heat. This was unusual. That visor never fogged, not even in the heat of combat. He took a deep breath and tried to steady his pulse, harness his self-control before he spoke again. “I do as my Master has ordered, but I don’t –” Ren did not get to finish the sentence.

“You will understand, Kylo Ren.” Snoke’s voice was heavy like old stone, resting densely on Ren’s shoulders like the burdens of a salt-slave. He took the weight well. What was one more burden compared to what he bore daily? His hatred was strong.

“Master.” Acquiescence. Acknowledgement.

“Through this,” Snoke rumbled, “I will show you how love is a weakness and how affection and intimacy are merely levers with which to move a man.” His ghostly hologram fingers drummed soundlessly on the arms of his throne.

Ren thought back to his supposed family, to that decadent softness that called still for him, and tried to fight the thoughts back with disgust and rage, but could only think of the light velvet touch of the General’s mouth and tongue. “I know that already, Master,” he said.

“Perhaps you do,” Snoke said with the faintest hint of a smile – a true, genuine smile. “Perhaps this lesson may still edify. Continue as you have done for now.”

“Yes, Master.” Ren stood and waited until the hologram blinked out, and then turned and left the room.

Silence. Darkness.


End file.
